2013-03-02 A Little Touch of Home
X-Men Base - Medical Lab It's Saturday evening, and Jocelyn has been returned to the manor by Carol after her little trip. It was certainly interesting, having a mentor who happend to be a SHIELD agent who could check out a freaking plane on demand. The teenager has gotten herself cleaned up and decided she'd bring Shift his nightly Dr. Pepper a bit early and see how he was doing. So, having snuck into the kitchen and gotten both a couple Dr. Peppers and a bag of pretzels, Jocelyn has made her way down to the medical lab. Yeah, the doctor might not appreciate the pretzels, but come on, Shift had to eat! The door opens up, and the teenager walks in. After her discovery earlier today, she's dressed a little more casually; a blue t-shirt and jeans. Notably, the gloves are not worn, though they can be seen peeking out of a pocket, just in case they're needed. The girl looks around to see if Shift is about, or if he's still in Gassy Shift mode. Progress has gone remarkably well, all things considered. Shift may have gone through his fair share of training with the X-Men, but he was no hardened soldier, in spite of such demands being asked of him. He'd never been through boot camp, or properly prepared for the nightmares of war. As such, his condition had decidedly been deemed an acute case of PTSD. Regardless, he has finally learned to maintain his human shape, at least while awake, and over the past few days has been recovering his strength and nourishment. The doctor is just finishing some scans, and is speaking to the African when Jocelyn enters. "I will grant you permission to leave the medical bay, but I wouldn't recommend leaving the grounds just yet. Resuming your service to the institute is fine, just don't push yourself." The remark gets one of those 'looks' from Kwabena, which is similarly return from the doctor. "Keep this translator on your person at all times." The doctor affixes a small, circular device to Shift's collar, which bears a tiny grill resembling a speaker and a small blue LED. "Until you're able to speak properly again, this will translate for you." Looking up, the doctor notices Jocelyn's arrival simultaneously with his patient, and a grin spreads across his face. "You appear to have a visitor. This will be a good chance to test the device." Turning to walk away, the doctor makes to leave the medical bay, passing by Jocelyn as he goes. "Good evening, Miss Stream." Kwabena eyes the device for a moment, before turning to look at Jocelyn. He's still dressed in the angular, tight fitting shorts and shirt of gunmetal gray, which closely resembles his X-Men Uniform and bears the unstable molecules that will 'shift' when he does, however this time, the patient wears a pair of comfortable shoes to keep his feet warm. He gives Jocelyn a grin and lightly hops down from the medical bed, but when he speaks, it is still in his native tongue. He does so easily, and the box affixed to his collar begins emitting a synthesized voice in English. "Hello, Detroit. Again I see you have brought me Doctor Pepper. My appreciation is yours." Clearly, the translation from Ahnbarian Provicinal dialect to English comes with its expected awkwardness. Ohh. Universal Translation. Neat! Jocelyn thought those things were pure science fiction, but she's been learning a lot about how a lot of things she thought were science fiction and fantasy were, in fact, real. "Hello doctor," Jocelyn says to the man. "Indeed. I thought that it might be a little early for anything harder, and I don't know that it would be appreciated," Jocelyn says. Because doctors don't really like it when you bring alcohol into the medical bay for some reason. She offers one of the sodas to Kwabena. "How are you feeling? It's a bit hard to read emotion with your voice emitter there". Just as a heads up in case she doesn't catch some sort of vocal queue she should otherwise pick up on. "I also brought some pretzels, in case you wanted something to snack on, too. You clear to leave the medical bay yet, or are you still shackled here?" she asks. With a scowl, the doctor points toward a metal flask that he has securely locked inside one of the transparent medical capsules. "The -mercenary- thought it was time. -I- will be the judge of that." "When was the time that you became my parent?" asks the translator on Shift's collar, following a short little burst in a foreign language and a leering smirk sent the doctor's way. The doctor doesn't answer directly. Instead, he walks toward the large, circular door, which begins to roll open. "I'll take my leave of you, then. -No- bourbon, Shift." Kwabena tips his hand in a mock salute toward the departing doctor, but the gesture seems somehow loaded with spite. Reaching out to take the soda, he focuses on it for a moment, before popping the cap with the crackling of a hardened finger. He gives Jocelyn a little smirk before lifting the soda in a mock salute and taking a hearty swig. During a smattering of indiscernible language, the translator does its thing. "My feeling is improved. I have learned to remain in this form while I am not in sleep, but it would seem that during slumber, in smoke form I will remain. I am, also, clear to leave the medical facility. Should we go for a walk, inquiry?" Kwabena chooses a different set of words. "Should we, perhaps, go for a walk?" With a quiet sigh, the African reaches up and disconnects the device. It seems to take a great deal of effort, but he is able to offer some broken English. "It... works, but not too well. I am... upset with my condition, but... h-... hap-py to be... on my feet again." He gestures toward the open door with a look of relief on his face, and asks. "Sh... shall we go? I could... really use some... fresh air and a smoke." "I can manage with the device," Jocelyn assures the man. "You don't need to strain yourself, Kwabena," the teenager assures him. Really, it was okay! "Sure, we can go for a walk. Anywhere particular you want to head?" She's guessing outside, where he could smoke (and not be smoke). "The lake is fairly nice this evening, and I can tell you about the rather interesting trip I had today, maybe catch you up on some of the news you've missed out on". Yeah, she had a little bit of an adventure today, but not of the dangerous kind for a change. The girl pops her Dr. Pepper open as well and returns the salute before she takes a drink of it herself. Perfect product placement indeed. Just what the 'doctor' ordered. She starts towards the doors, figuring Kwabena will come along. Though she can see why the doctor wouldn't want him to have any alcohol yet. It might be an issue. Or it might just be the doctor being overly cautious. Still, much as she joked about it, she could see the logic. There is a slightly gruff sound of complaint that comes from Kwabena. "I... suppose... it..." Cutting himself off with a sigh, he reaches up and reactivates the translator, before bursting the rest of his remark in Ghanaian. "I suppose there is distaste for the device, but I will have to manage with using it." He steps over to a storage bin, retrieving some of his personal effects that were brought in from his quarters. It takes but a moment for him to step into a pair of brown pants and throw a black leather jacket over his shoulders, but soon enough he's following her toward the door. Leading her now down the long hallway, he drinks from his Dr. Pepper while heading for the base's secret entrance. "We shall migrate to the lake, then, Jocelyn. There I can finally enjoy a cigarette, despite the doctor's opposition to the habit." He glances her way, letting the translator continue to carry on their dialogue. "Tell me of this adventure. Is it a safe assumption that you migrated to New York City for some few days?" "Works for me," Jocelyn tells Kwabena and starts towards the lake. "No. I don't know if I've told you, but you know Carol? From the mission? We have similar powers, and she asked the Professor if she could help me with mine, so I've been working with her a couple times a week," the girl tells Shift. "So, she wanted me to meet someone, and it turns out this person lives in Nebraska". There is, of course, permission for her to be taken off campus by Carol, so it's within the rules. Technically. "Umm, also? Mr. Summers told me about the X-Men and may have possibly asked me if I was interested," she adds in a slightly quieter tone, in case there is someone who shouldn't hear, though she doesn't see anybody about. Well, she may as well drop the bombshell early, right? Right? When asked if he knows Carol, Shift gives an affirming nod of his head, but refrains from interjection. Instead, he listens carefully, and admittedly, his eyebrows shoot upward in surprise when he learns that they had taken a trip all the way to Nebraska. "I will admit to you that I have known Carol as an associate for some time, but it is sad to me that she and I have never had the opportunity to get to know one another." His hands gesture about as he speaks, indicative of the regret and reminiscence that fill his native words. "All of the times we are encountering each other, there are monsters to fight, enemies who wish us harm, and devices of danger exploding all around us." A grin forms on his face. "It does not leave much time for friendly dialogue, or understanding with detail a counterpart's ability." There is a striking diversion in his demeanor, however, when she mentions the X-Men. His footsteps even go so far as to slow down, and he looks toward her with an expression of deep worry, which rests in the arc of his eyes, the downward turn of his lips, and the flexing of his jawline. What ever reservations he has about Jocelyn joining, he keeps them to himself, instead approaching the secret entrance while asking, "How exactly did Scott describe the purpose of the X-Men to you?" He begins entering a series of numbers into a security pad, after which the door unlocks and begins quietly rolling open to reveal the forested landscape outside. Rear Grounds / Breakstone Lake Area Carol Danvers has arrived. "No, it doesn't, but she wants to help me with my training, and I thought it made sense. She has a lot of experience with this sort of thing, and there is a lot I can learn from her," Jocelyn tells Shift. She's dressed, notably, in a t-shirt and jeans, with her usual gloves in her pockets instead of on her hands. "In fact, today I kind of inadvertantly learned I can shut off my powers, though I haven't mastered it. So I don't shock people at a touch all the time". Though she was still working on that part of it, she figured she just had to practice, and that meant not always wearing gloves and covering every inch of skin. She notices the demeanor change, even with his vocals sounding weird through that electronic emitter that was translating his voice. "He told me the purpose was to defend mutants, humans, and others. Usually it didn't involve so much violence and possible killing as the Artic though". She pauses. "I'm pretty sure I only knocked people out there". Another pause. She was pretty sure. Hopefully she didn't actually kill anyone with her kinetic blasts. "Proactively helping the world be a better plase, is how it was phrased to me". Jocelyn shrugs a little as they make their way to the lake. "I mean, once I've finished learning my control here, I don't intend to just sit around and do nothing. I figure I got these powers for a reason, and if I can do some good with them, then that seems like a good plan to me". Despite her upbringing, she does have some of that idealism going on in her. She just doesn't always show it. Well, it is fortunate for both that Jocelyn (and, in essence, Scott Summers) hit the nail on the head. Kwabena seems to visibly relax when she passes along Scott's concern with recent matters, and he nods his head in an understanding manner. While Jocelyn speaks, he taps a cigarette from a soft pack, flicks a zippo, and is soon letting his eyes flutter at the sweet touch of habitual death that fills his lungs and begins surging into his veins. He, of course, makes it a point to blow his smoke up and away from his young counterpart. "The purpose of our organization," emits the translator, "is very high minded, indeed. Our intentions are to do good things for the people of earthen heritage and God's creation, to His glory." There is a moment where Kwabena winces, not quite realizing how deeply ingrained the missionary heritage has taken upon his people; it is so heavily laced into the Ahnbarian Provincial dialogue that, when the translator catches it, it can't help but be delivered through synthetic verbalization. "What I mean to say is, to do something with such high purpose will always present obstacles and challenges that we may not completely prepare ourselves for." A dubious expression is sent her way. It would seem that Kwabena is trying his best to skirt the harsh language of war and killing, hoping instead that Jocelyn might assume the subject matter he is hesitant to discuss with a teenager. "I can recall when I first began learning to control my mutation," continues the translator, and Kwabena smiles in brief reminiscence. "It was... fun." Having dropped Jocelyn off at the school earlier, Carol flew back to NYC, turned in her little sleek jet craft to SHIELD and stopped at home for a quick shower. Then she jumped online and did some research before calling around the city. Now, she went ahead and used her ability to fly under her own power to help out and within an hour or so, she had what she sought. It's not as easy as one might think, to fly with arms full of something warm, savory, and delicious smelling without stopping to partake of it, but she wanted to get it to the school while it was still fresh. Fortunately, she can radiate photonic energy to keep the stuff warm and she does so, almost like putting a pot on the stove and having it on the lowest possible setting. Soaring down to land carefully... see, she can't do her usual aerobatic maneuvers with a pot full of food in her hands... Carol lands in the yard and is about to head inside when she spots you two out on the grounds. Her costume flickers and returns to street clothes... I mean why fly in street clothes, right? Anyhow, she starts walking that way.. and she's coming from upwind, so the Jollof Rice with chicken that she is carrying... still steaming hot... wafts its scent downwind towards the both of you. She doesn't speak up yet, simply approaching... Right. Skirting the issue with Jocelyn always works so well for everyone involved. Really. She listens to the man speak, not commenting on things until he finishes. It was a lot to take in, and the subject matter wasn't nearly as easy as it might seem to be on the surface. "Agreed. The way I see it, after how things happened, I'd much rather spend the time training and knowing what to do in a variety of situations than let myself get tossed in completely unprepared. I don't know how I did from everyone else's perspective on the mission, for example, but I figure that I came out alive, so at least some of my upbringing helped". She shrugs. "I know there are ugly things we'll have to deal with". It's a sign of respect that she doesn't call Kwabena out immediately for skirting the issue. "I think I'll do alright with them, but we won't know until it happens. Way I see it is that if I understand that, and know what to do in chaos, then I'll be as ready as I can ever be". She didn't like skirting issues, but Shift had earned that much from her. It's at that point Jocelyn notices Carol. "You were saying you never got to socialize with her, but looks like she's making a pitstop on the way home". Jocelyn raises her hand and waves to Carol. She calls out, "Hi Carol! You're bringing me dinner now? At this rate I'm going to think you're softening me up to throw me off my guard when you show up next time to try and make me cry in our training". She wears an easy grin for the woman, obviously joking. With a shrug, Kwabena offers a few more cents via the translator. "I am certain that my upbringing helped as well. All of us will bring certain strengths and weaknesses to the team, and it is important for us to know that about each other." With a deep breath, he makes a decision not to skirt the issue any longer. "Jocelyn, this is not the first time I have taken someone's life. I have... seen so many ugly things, and have had to make the difficult decision before. There..." Suddenly, the translator and Kwabena's voice both go silent. The mere thought of those times that he has taken the life of another seems enough to stop him cold. Anyone familiar with PTSD might notice it... the thought cripples the body. He stands very still for a moment, the fingers of one fist clenching so tightly while the other shakily holds a burning cigarette. There was so much he could tell her, of his own past, his failures and successes, how he ended up an X-Man, but he'll have to work through that mental block to dig it up. The smell of delicious food from his home region of Ghana, however? That's certainly enough to snap him out of it. With a sudden and fluttering series of blinks, he turns around and looks toward the source of the heart-warming scent, and his demeanor visibly -brightens-. "Jollof rice? With konkonte chicken and peas?" translates the device on his collar. "Carol Danvers, you should not have!" He begins walking toward her with quickened footsteps. Bobby Drake enters from: Rear Grounds. Bobby Drake has arrived. Grinning ear to ear at the reaction she got out of Shift, Carol approaches closer. She's been around, been through enough issues of her own to flat out -know- that there was going to be shellshock... or rather PTSD issues or at least the potential for them. So she went through the effort to try to give -some- comfort of home to a man she's fought alongside... more than once now. Her eyes flicker to Jocelyn as the girl speaks and she chuckles, "Now, would I be that much of a bitch?" She pauses and adds, "Don't answer that Jocelyn. This however, was mainly for Kwabena here. I thought that a little taste of home would do him good. I did however, bring a large pot with theoretically enough for half a dozen folks. I know there's lots of hungry students here every day." She gets within a few feet and reaches up to lift the lid off the steaming pot of rice, chicken, peas... nutmeg, thyme, all that good stuff. "You guys want to step inside and crack this open?" she adds with a grin at just seeing how this has reached into Kwa's head and forced him to smile. Jocelyn was about to respond to Shift's statements, but decides that this current line of conversation is more than sufficient to sustain him. The less talk about her being in danger and how many times Shift has had to take another person's life the better, in her book. She doesn't have PTSD training. She knows how to deal with a lot of different 'freeze' moments, but this wasn't one of them. "Well, okay, if you're sure you don't want to hear the answer. Who knows, it could be pretty flattering," Jocelyn teases Carol. See, she didn't have access to food from Shift's native land. Just the Dr. Peppers she brought him, but that worked alright. "I'm pretty sure we could abort this whole idea of walking around outside and have ourselves something to eat, if you'd like Shift," Jocelyn comments. "I take it you had to return the plane, as I didn't see it buzz the mansion," Jocelyn adds with a knowing smile as she remembered a certain football field. Carol's effort is certainly not lost on Shift. He doesn't even seem to really think about the fact that he's reached up to switch off the translator on his collar, so that he might speak English again. "It smells -delicious-," he says in easy English, then takes one last drag of his cigarette before pinching the cherry to the cold ground and stuffing the butt back away inside of his jacket. Who knows, maybe the Professor 'impressed' upon him that cigarette butts belong in the garbage, not the ground. "I won't ask how you got it, or how it's still warm," he says, before turning and walking back toward the mansion. "But, Jocelyn? You are in for a -real- treat!" Seems he almost hasn't even recognized how important it is that he's now speaking English again, as if he'd never forgotten how. Smirking to Jocelyn, Carol shakes her head, "no... let's not bother with flattery okay?" she asks the girl as she turns to stroll gracefully towards the school building. "I didn't bring anything to drink.. was hard enough flying myself with this thing in my hands... and trying not to spill it all while using my energy to keep it warm." Well, that explains that. "I guarantee I'd have dropped -something- if I tried to carry anything more." "And one of these days Kwa.. we'll get you on the patch or something." she adds with a little hip-bop to the african dude. "And yeah, the jet was just on loan for the day. It's not like the thing -belongs- to me. Though it -was- fun to fly." And the look in -her- eyes is lit up almost as much as this food lit up Kwabena's expression. It's clear how one would get through to -her- if she were having a breakdown. "It smells pretty good," Jocelyn agrees as she starts back towards the mansion. Jocelyn figured that it was kept warm by Carol's energy, and she was pretty sure it was still safe to eat. Right? Right. The teenager remains quiet, however, until they reach the school, at which point she'll open up the doors and let the rest of the group inside. Hey, once in awhile, Jocelyn can actually keep her tongue in her mouth and not be blabbering on about something, though she was never as bad as certain other students at the school. "Dere is plenty to drink in de cafeteria," says Shift. He eyes Carol dubiously as they head toward the rear entrance of the mansion, noting, "You know, I don't think we evah actually discussed what it is you -do-. You know, with energy and such." He hooks a thumb toward the quiet Jocelyn, saying, "Detroit here mentioned some few things, but I've only evah seen... oh, explosions, light shows, changing costumes, and dat flying trick of yours. Pretty neat." At the hip-bop, however, that dubious expression darkens just so. "I'll take de patch or de smokes over -oddah- things." Hey, the translator may speak with a perfect dialect, but Kwabena's naturally accented English is still a hell of a lot better than oddly translated words emitted from the tiny speaker of a collar-worn computer. Bobby Drake's still not in the cheeriest of moods, especially not after the previous night, but he's still forcing a smile to his face and humming a song he heard on the radio earlier. Dressed in his usuall attire, Bobby was actually on his way outside but now he's just a little surprised that the doors are opening before he can even reach for them. Of course when he sees who it is, the cryokinetic smirks. "Well, there ya are, Kwa. I went down to visit you and got told you weren't there," he says, glancing at Carol and Jocelyn and giving them a quick wave. "Yo." Cafeteria "Yeah, what I do with energy is... a bit complicated. Not as much a Jocelyn's powers here. She has far more variety than I do... a much more versatile energy controller to be sure. I personally absorb just about any sort of EM energy, and use that to charge up the energy I already have. Think of it like a capacitor with a generator attached. The generator keeps it about sixty percent full at all times, but outside sources can charge it up until... well, let's just say that when I get -too- much, it's like finding a grenade with the pin already pulled. You're not sure if you have five seconds, or just enough time to blink your eyes.. but you know it's going to blow the heck up anytime now." Carol is a bit longwinded when she goes into 'explaining' mode. "The flying isn't exactly because of the energy. It's... well, let's sit down and eat. I'll tell you the whole story once we get settled in." And then she sees Bobby, "Hey there slick." she says, using a nickname. Why not? It's fun! "Hungry?" she asks, holding a large pot of rice and chicken and spices and such out for the smell to waft about. Jocelyn lets Carol talk about her powers. Yeah, they're similar, but Jocelyn still thinks they're more the same than different. "Hello Mr. Drake," Jocelyn tells the man as they arrive. "Yeah, we sprung Kwabena tonight. Must have just missed us. Doctor's orders are for him to avoid alcohol though," she points out with a small smile from behind Kwabena. Being taller than the man, she can get away with that pretty easily, she figures. "Carol brought him some dinner that's something he's had back home and has enough for a group," she explains. "How're you tonight?" she asks the man politely, still holding the door and waiting for everybody to get inside. Jocelyn has a bottle of Dr. Pepper in hand and seems fairly comfortable with the grop as a whole, which is a far cry from when she first arrived. A warm smile is given toward Bobby in greeting. "Dat, or I was just sleeping. Apparently now I sleep in smoke form." Classic PTSD, right? Poking light hearted fun at your ailment. Most likely, if Kwabena were to let himself truly grieve over his situation, he'd once again find himself losing his English and being forced to use that damned Universal Translator again. While Kwabena never went to school, he was surprisingly self-taught. He nods his head along in understanding of Carol's explanation, and is quick to pull out a few chairs for his friends before moving off to grab some empty plates and silverware. "You'll love it, Iceman," issues Kwabena. "Real, authentic Ghanaian food!" Once they are all settled in, Kwabena levels a mock wary eye across the table toward Carol. "-Just- a grenade? Or are we talking something more like... an FAE or tac-nuke?" He takes the lead on dishing out the Jollof Rice with konkonte chicken, so that it is presented in the proper manner for everyone. "Food sounds pretty good," Bobby replies to Carol. "And please don't call me that," he sighs at that particular nickname. "Whatcha got in the pot?" he asks, taking a sniff. "So ya rescued him from the big bad doctor, huh? Good job, kiddo," he smirks. He waves off the question. "Doin' cool, what about you?" he asks. "Naw, I checked your bottle. Not even a wisp," he says. "Grenades are such a pain," he remarks, joking a little. Chuckling, Carol is about to pull a Tommy Lee Jones in Men in Black and use a whole string of nicknames for Bobby. Something, however... makes her pause. She just shrugs, "Fair enough." she tells the guy. "See, I got my powers from a whole.. crazy powerful alien tech device that literally... might as well have been a wish machine." She sits down and lets Kwa handle the dishing out of the rice and chicken. Anything to keep him -involved- and in the here-and-now. "I was out of the Air Force, out of the CIA, and working for NASA at the time, doing security for a launch site. There were these two alien guys. One was Mar-Vell, one of the greatest heroes this world has ever seen." She pauses to sigh briefly. After all, the guy's dead. "Anyhow, he was fighting against someone who had come after him with this machine... the Psyche-Magnatron. I was apparently knocked out by a blast and the two of them were fighting. Mar was losing... as I woke up. I remember struggling to my hands and knees, trying to go help but.. I had no powers. One thing about me though, I don't quit." she adds with a smirk. "Anyhow, I remember wishing that I was powerful enough to help... then the Psyche-Magnatron blew up... it had been damaged in the fight and... the energy of the explosion washed over me and kinda made it happen. Anyhow... that didn't give me any kind of energy stuff, I was just strong, tough, flew... which is why Rogue doesn't have energy powers." She adds, getting up to go grab some other sodas out of the fridge. Jocelyn has heard some of Carol's story before, so she listens politely, but focuses a little more on the food. This time, when Jocelyn hears Bobby referred to as Iceman, she doesn't bat an eye. She knows why now, so she doesn't bother. She's about to say something when her phone starts beeping. She looks down at it and shakes her head. "Already?" She sighs. "Sorry everyone, I'm going to have to pass. Have to go help one someone in the dorms out of a sticky spot. I'll see you later". And she's out the door. exits the IC world. At least Carol Danvers isn't breaking out the flashy thing. "De doctah is pretty happy with my progress," Kwabena admits. "I'm going to hate breaking to him him dat I won't be listening to his 'no booze' advice." He listens to Carol's story, perking an eyebrow when she mentions Rogue. It only takes a moment for him to piece it together. "Ah, so you too were touched by a Rogue?" he asks. "She was looking out for me once, before I came to de institute. We had a little accident." He looks around at the others, explaining, "Liquid tends to pass right through gloves." As Jocelyn makes to leave, he looks back at her. "We'll keep some warm for you, Detroit!" he calls. Then, he sticks a fork into his Jollof rice, grinning widely. "Dat is a fascinating story, Carol. If I didn't know you bettah, I'd call bullshit. I think, for fellas like Bobby and myself, we just kinda... you know... woke up." He casts Bobby a grin, before shoveling the food into his mouth and closing his eyes in appreciation. The lack of flashy things is good. They're in a school after all! Somebody think of the children! "It's hard to imagine that doctor anything but annoyed," Bobby laughs. "How about just stickin' with no hard liquor for a bit," he half-teases Shift. Carol's story gets his attention next and he listens curiously. "Huh. Alien powers, not even the weirdest origin story I've heard," he half jokes. He can't help but snicker slightly when Kwabena mentions the accident and liquid. Yes, he is twelve inside sometimes. At least he didn't say it out loud. "See ya later, Jocelyn," he offers as the student goes. "She's a good kid," he reamrks idly. "Hey, there was no waking up where I was concerned. The whole icy thing happened gradually. One day I'm normal then suddenly I start making everything cold, I'm leaving snow places, I'm freezing a lake, and then I'm icing a bully over," he shrugs. "I wish I had that easy sudden overnight 'bam my powers are just there and fully functional' some of these kids got." "Yeah, it went a bit further than that. You see... Rogue ... tried to kill me. She wasn't exactly the altruistic hero she is now. She's certainly come a long way, but.. she drained me until I had nothing. No powers, no memories... and left me for dead. Good thing I was always a tough broad." she mutters, taking a sip of her soda as she sits back down. "And she drained me until those powers were hers, not mine. Same with the memories." Taking one more sip, Carol goes quiet for a sec, her eyes gaining a distant look before she shakes her head. She's dealt with this particular trauma for a while now. "That's when I met Charles. When I came here. He helped restore my memories but.. they were never the same. Imagine remembering your life, like you were watching it on a TV screen. You can see what happened, but there's no -connection-. I have zero emotional connection to things like.. my brother's death... my first kiss... any of that." She shrugs, "-These- powers came later..." she says as she summons a bit of energy to her hand to light up a touch. Nightcrawler enters from: Rear Grounds. Nightcrawler has arrived. "Yeah, yeah," quips Kwabena. "First thing I do after dinnah, dough? I am going to have an ice cold beer." He waits until some food is chewed, then motions between the two with fork in hand. "Do you like it?" he asks of the Ghanaian food. A nod of his head is given in agreement of Bobby's take on Jocelyn, before he's once again listening to Carol's story. The darker subject matter seems to trigger a frown on Kwabena's face, and truth be told, were he not in the company of friends and delicious food from home, he might have lapsed back and lost his ability so speak English again. Brow furrowed, he shakes his head and speaks with a touch of difficulty, "I... couldn't image what dat... would have been like." Reaching for his bottle of Dr. Pepper, he adds, "Many of us have had to... come some few long distances to be who we are. I... used to... m-mug people on de streets." He shakes his head. "Couldn't control my mutation, just knew it made me invincible. To de cops. Dey could nevah catch me, so I didn't care what I did. Now I know I'm not unbreakable." As if his time imprisoned by Victor Von Doom hadn't taught him enough, having his body blown to pieces by one of the Sentinels certainly did. Bobby, Kwabena, and Carol seem to be hunkered over a huge pot of Ghanaian food, having a conversation amongst themselves. "I think I'll join ya. I'll even make sure it's ice cold," Bobby remarks, letting a finger frost up a moment. He starts to eat after that, letting out a little hum. "Thia ia pretty good," he replies with a smile. He goes quiet and stays quiet as Carol and Kwabena delve into dark story time. His own experiences until recently have been pretty much sunshine and bunnies compared to that kind of stuff. So he just eats and lists, tensing slightly at the mention of not being unbreakable. He got a crash course in that lesson not too recently himself. "Anyhow, -these- powers came about because my genetic structure was changed... and the Brood had been capturing mutants... and they got their claws on me. When they saw that I was neither mutant, nor baseline human... they... well, they futzed with me and poof... I turned into some cosmic crazy person. I could fly in space, blast starships in half. It was nuts." Carol shakes her head and takes a bite, "Man, this is... so many flavors in one bite.." she says, totally sidetracked from the story by the food. "Oh right, anyway, I overtaxed even those cosmic powers... sucking some destabilized energy out of the sun before it could implode. I was lucky that someone caught me before I fell into the sun... but I ended up back on Earth... turns out I didn't lose all my powers, just, most of them. So now I am... what I am now. That's why when I absorb stupid amounts of energy, things get nuts. And yes... when I flew out in the arctic with that sentinel... I went about twenty miles up and exploded. It was likely very near the output of a nuke." But, she goes right back into eating now. Yummy stuff! What is that sound? *bamf* *bamf* Lo and behold! Could it be? *bamf* In a cloud of dust and a hearty hi-o-sil-- nope. Not quite. In a bit of brimstone, there is a rather familiar blue form popping in and out.. and he rests.. and again, there's a (controlled) burst as he makes his way from the cafeteria into the direction of his most favoured non-possession. The boat. Kurt does pause, however, eyes yellow and happy, even if there's more than a little fatigue that creases the fur (as if one could see it?) around them. The greeting that is offered, "Meine freunden-- Shift! You are .. in one piece." There's another bit to be grateful for. "Bobby.. Carol.." "Cheers," offers Kwabena when both Bobby and Carol make mention of the deliciousness that is Jollof rice and konkonte chicken. "Carol, you must tell me where you found it. Dis is probably de best cuisine I've found in de state. Promise me you'll never turn into a nuke in its vicinity, dough I could show you some few places in Chicago and Gotham dat could stand a nice kitchen fire." The sound of *bamf* carried upon the proverbial wind is something that draws his attention fully from the table, and once again a grin is back on the African's face. "Kurt! I am." He pounds his own chest with two thuds. "Strong as evah." He fails to mention that he's still sleeping in cloud form, and that had it not been for Carol's surprise visit with food from his home country, he might still be forced to use Hank McCoy's Not-So-Perfect Universal Translator, which still remains fixated on his collar, a tiny object that could be easy to miss. Indeed, his use of English remains intact, in spite of the darker conversation that had almost developed. "Come. Dere is Ghanaian food, Carol brought it. Jollof rice and konkonte chicken!" Bobby keeps his head down and eyes on his meal until that tell-tale BAMF catches his attention. Bobby looks up quickly and grins when he sees Kurt. "Hey, if it isn't everyone's favorite elf-man," he greets, gesturing for Kurt to come join their meal. "You look like you could use a bite to eat." "Anyhow, that's how I got to be all glowy and energetic. I'm still strong as ever though, and tough as nails." offers Carol, "Oh, and modest too." And then as Kurt appears, she just glances over, gestures to a seat at the table. "We got plenty of food, and Kwa... I found a little dive in a back alley of Manhattan, run by a family from Ghana. When I told them that I had a friend recovering from injuries, who was -from- there. They wouldn't let me leave till they'd prepared that for ya." She grins, "When you're more... ambulatory, I'll take you there, I promise, and no... no nukes anywhere near Manhattan, I promise." she adds. Yeah, she's had a rough time in the last several years, but... she seems to have gotten past the majority of it. Working through the alcoholism was the part that was the hardest. She's put that behind her now and is living day to day. Kurt approaches, using all the *bamfs* he can actually use in that short distance, looking very much like a Tigger that's regained his bounce. Once he lands, he's craning his head towards the food. "Ja?" No! He's on a delivery mission, after a fashion. Still, Kurt's smile is genuine. "It is good to see you, mein freund. I've lit candles for you as well as prayed the doctors got it right." Seems as they have! Bobby's grin is easily returned, and he shuffles towards the iceman, pointing at the frosted beer. "It is a sin. If I had joined the priesthood, your pennance would be as severe as it would be for.." Quick.. ".. lying.. or cheating. At cards? Father Mike has begun throwing the book at me." Looking to Carol, Kurt cants his head and his brows rising. His tail droops theatrically, and he sighs just as, "I suppose for a few.." Hmm. "Dat is de way we are," answers Kwabena. "People from Ghana take care of each oddah." There may be a touch of irony in his tone, given his own ordeal when the villagers of his home cast him out, but their reaction to his X-Gene manifestation was at best, understandable. That didn't make forgiveness any easier. "I would certainly appreciate dat," he offers to Carol. "Who knows, perhaps dey might help me mend things with my family. Depends on which province dey immigrated from." Kurt is given a most appreciative smile and a little bow of his head. "For dat, my friend, I will -insist- dat you join us and eat. Please, it is a taste of my home." He reaches out with a leg and scoots the chair formerly occupied by Jocelyn back a bit so that Kurt can take a seat. Seems he isn't going to take 'no' for an answer. "I don't suppose many peopah had de benefit of being so well trained before becoming supah-human," says Kwabena to Carol. "Air Force, CIA, NASA?" He shakes his head. "I grew up in de guttah, dat's what we used to say in Chicago, about de hood life. Ain't a thing you can get dat you can't take." Bobby just quirks a brow. "Wha?" his head tilts to the side, glancing at his drink then up at Kurt. "Dude, not all beers are good warm. Some gotta have a chill. Makes 'em better," he replies with a smirk, sending a little chilly breeze Kurt's way just to tease him. He can't help but smirk again as Carol and Kwa agree to go to dinner. Grinning, he reaches over to pat Shift's shoulder. "Would ya look at that, Kwa my man. Another reason to look forward to getting healthy, a date with a hot blond bombshell," he declares, gesturing at Carol. Of course he'll quiet back down at the darker subject matter, again feeling a little bad about his comparatively easy time growing up. Raising her brows, Carol just smirks. "One thing I learned in the military... morale is important." she offers with a waggle of her brows. "But, sometimes I envy folks who grew up with their abilities. Seriously, it took a -lot- to get used to having enough strength to crush steel with my bare hands.. and not like, ripping off my car door every time I try to open it." Carol shakes her head and leans over towards Kurt, "So, what do you think my odds are if I buy dinner? Think Kwa'll put out?" she asks, openly teasing just like she was one of the guys. Kurt settles in a chair and as he pulls a little here, a little from there onto a plate, he offers a quick murmured blessing, followed by genuflection. Then, he can actually take the first bite. "If you have to chill it until it has no flavour, it is not worth drinking." He nods towards the building in gesture, "Take vodka, for example. No flavour, so the cold doesn't hurt it in the least." "I grew up in the circus," he offers. "On the flying trapeze." No guilt in having something of a happy memory to bring forward. "Mmm.. this is good, danke. Goat? -- Though, outside, the villagers might light a torch or two, or arguments break out as to who gets the spade und who gets the pitchfork while running me down?" Kurt mentions it so easily as to leave people guessing as to whether or not he's joking or.. being serious! Carol's question brings a toothy grin as the elf sits straight. "I know I would." Daggers come from Kwabena's eyes for a moment, aimed straight at Bobby. Of course, because of this he notices the man's sudden quieting. He'd noticed a bit of that coming from Bobby lately, but bringing it up in front of the others? Might be a bad move. Filed away for another time, then. Instead, the attention is diverted by Carol and forms a smirk. He's about to make a snide remark when Kurt takes the show, and he leans back somewhat, looking back over at Bobby. "I appear to have some competition," he quips, and casts a wink in Kurt's direction. "Okay, so. Here we have a military babe, an ex junkie and street thug, and a guy who grew up in de circus." He arcs his head toward Bobby again while forking a fresh pile of Jollof rice onto his fork. "Tell me you have de fortune of being de only -normal- person here." Bobby shakes his head. "Dude, you need a lesson in proper chilling. Luckily the master is right here," he says, gesturing at himself theatrically. "I'll gladly school you in the ways of properly cooled drinks sometime," he says. When he notices the glare from Kwabena, Bobby just grins. "Naw, Kurt's just a charmer. He gets all the ladies swooning," he laughs. "Who said there's anything called normal?" Bobby jokes. "I just grew up in suburbia. Nothing special." With a shudder, Carol mutters, "Whoa, suburbs are hell..." And then she laughs and leans in to take another bite of the rice and chicken concoction. "Me? I grew up in Boston." (Though, that single word comes out with the Boston accent, so it sounds more like Bahsten.) "Yes, and I live in New York. I still root for the Red Sox though... kinda makes me persona non-grata around baseball season." She looks to Kwa and smirks a bit, "Competition? I thought you'd thrive on a little competition." At least she didn't go far enough to draw from that recent This means War movie... "Competition, nein. But, if she offered to pay, I would be obligated, ja? Particularly as she is attractive?" Kurt offers a light shrug, and spoons more into his mouth. Chewing and swallowing, he barks a laugh at Bobby's defense of him. "You forget the issues I had finding a date for Valentine's.. which is fine. I am glad your memory is so short." "Ja.. perhaps we should have a daquiri night?" Because, well.. that's the only thing that should be taken even vaguely frozen! "You know," and Kurt gestures with his fingers over a glass, "Strawberries, und.. such." Kurt scoffs at the team chosen, and shakes his head. "Yankees, all the way." Okay, probably because, well.. blue stripes and blue? "Red clashes." Speaking of charming, Kwabena, mock as it may be, reaches across the table and lays a hand upon Carol's, while fixing her with his most charming expression. "Baby, I will go to dinnah with you -any time-." Leaning back into his seat properly again, Kwabena tips his head in Bobby's direction. "I'm with Carol. De suburbs were always too open for me. I'm a city boy now, can't take it out of me. Dough de institute is nice and all, I'm more at home in Brooklyn." Talk of baseball seems to gain a snort of resistance from him. "Football or nothing. -Real- football. Soccah. It's de only sport dat matters." Defiance is a strong thing. "Hey, I said you were good at getting 'em swooning, not sealing the deal," Bobby teases Kurt, nudging him playfully. "Bannana and Strawberry. Maybe both!" Bobby grins at the mention of a night of drinks. He thinks they need one for sure. "The suburbs are only bad if you can't take the mindnumbing boredom and the people all trying to be the big fish in the small pond," he shrugs with a little laugh. The talk of sports gets him shaking his head again. "Yankees and football all the way. American football." At the mention of football, Carol grins, "Go Patriots!" she announces. Then at the talk of drinks and such, she shakes her head, "Guys, you know I'm an alcoholic, right?" She cringes just a bit and shakes her head, "Can we discuss things like... soda pop or some such so I don't -want- to jump off the wagon or some such?" Kurt uses his tail to gently nudge the chair upon which Bobby sits, deliberately trying to up-end it to send the younger Xer onto the floor as a response to the comment about 'sealing the deal'. All while eating more of the still warm food on his plate. "See, Carol?" The grin reappears and he nods his agreement with Kwa. "Football, ja. World Cup. I'm hoping to get tickets for this year's game." He's missed all the other ones, including when it was played in the US. There's a moment when the smile fades a bit, and the fuzzy elf looks apologetic. "I'm sorry, fraulein.. I did not realize." It's not his business, anyway. "Um.. how about ice coffee?" Actually, come summer, he likes those too! Just.. not in the spring. "With caramel." Meanwhile, Kwabena has just been minding his own business, finishing the rest of his meal. Of course, there is an empathetic look for Carol. It's Kurt's defense of -real- football that gets him up and talking again. "Tickets are a bit expensive, not to mention air fair," he claims, though it is with a knowing expression, as if he might have something, shall we say, planned. No, he couldn't have. Eyes catching sight of the tail moving toward Bobby's chair, he merely glances that way and watches with a crooked eyebrow. It wouldn't be the first time he saw Drake taking a spill like that... "Whaa!" Bobby yelps as he gets upended. His fork ends up flying across the table as he goes. THUD "I'm okay," he grunts, pulling himself back up to the table. "Sorry," he offers Carol's way. Righting his chair, Bobby smirks. "Iced coffee is the best kind of coffee." Snatching the fork out of the air as it goes, Carol holds it there. Yeah, her reflexes have been enhanced along with everything else, "Hey careful down there. Floors can hurt." she says to Bobby as she holds that fork out his way. "And yeah, a good iced mocha is awesome." "I have to have those little lids on them. The whipped cream.." and Kurt gestures with his fork at his upper lip. Fuzzy and blue. He doesn't seem to notice the fact that Bobby's taken that spill, courtesy of his tail. "And the caramel?" He makes a dramatic wincing look, and his voice lowers, "Takes days to wash out if I get it on myself." Such problems! "Ja, tickets," the elf nods. "I can handle the air travel." Courtesy of the Blackbird. "It's the getting in. Und then, you always have those sitting in front of you that simply will not shut up." He exhales with something of a theatric air, "Then, because they've had too much to drink, they'll get into a fight.. so then, there is no good way to diffuse it unless they are bamfed out to the parking lot. Und then?" Kurt puts his fork down, "You miss the winning goal." In an off hand way to Bobby, Kwabena remarks, "See? Dis is why I -love- turning to smoke." He looks across the table with a grin toward Carol. "Remembah de time I jumped out of a commercial airliner over Doomstadt Castle?" he asks. "And it was -you- who almost scared de hell out of me." As if to explain, he looks toward Bobby and Kurt. "Yes, Carol and I were fighting maniacal dictators long before I evah stepped foot in dese walls." Yeah, and he was as green as a granny smith apple back then, which may have something to do with how they all got captured. We'll leave that one for another day. To Kurt, he remarks, "Sounds like we ought to bring de Professah along. I'm sure he could keep things reasonably controlled. Besides... I'll bet he has a secret -love- of de sport." Accepting the fork, Bobby smirks Kurt's way. "Caramel and whipped cream, huh?" he asks, that devious little 'I am planning a prank' look in his eyes. He starts to say something else when hias phone rings from his pocket. Bobby blinks and gives a 'one second' gesture. He steps away to answer the phone and after a quick conversation comes back. "Alright, much as I enjoy hanging with you all, I've got to go meet someone. I'll see you all later," he smiles. "And good seein' ya out and about, Kwa. Try not to antagnoize any supervillains before I get back," he teases. He takes one last bite of his food before heading for the the door. Kurt laughs, "I'm sure he must, Kwa. If not, I will be quite sad, or.. heartened. Just think.. we can teach him properly." The plate now before him is cleaned, and the fork is placed upon it. "Then we will not get in trouble if we take the Blackbird." As if he did before? Brows rise and he looks first at Kwa, then at Carol. "Ja? You've worked together before?" There's a moment when he settles in a pout, "I never got to play with anyone like that before coming here." Poor thing. Though as Bobby rises to his feet at the ring of his cell phone, Kurt too begins to gain his feet. "I have a few errands to run still.. und need to make the City soon." Once again, it's an honestly relieved Kurt that offers, "I am very glad you are doing well, mein freund.." And to the departing Bobby, "I will see you later.. you won't have to worry about me antagonizing anyone." They love him! Yeah.. It's with a happy-sounding *bamf* (as if there is such a thing?) that the blue elf departs.. and where he lands, well.. it's not within sight of those on the grounds. Category:Logs Category:RPLogs